


Understanding

by CorsetJinx



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Emotional Support, Gen, Post Dead Kings DLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something has Leon in low spirits and Arno would like to help the little man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

Mademoiselle Margot told him where to find the little man, her face a crease of worried lines and troubled eyes. Her husband, Arno thought the man might be her husband at least, had said nothing except a terse warning to be careful. He took it in stride as he left the orphanage, allowing his feet to carry him past the backyard and the tree Leon likes to practice against. The wall was grimy but stable, Arno had experienced greater trouble scaling the heights of Notre’ Dame in all truth.

The lack of challenge didn’t do much to put him at ease – rather because it took a sweep of the roof’s area in the second Vision to find the person he was looking for.

Leon did not acknowledge him like he might have usually. Instead the young man kept his posture hunched, arms wrapped about his thin knees and his chin supposedly perched on top of them. It was a morose look, not at all like the little firebrand that had gotten the Assassin back into the effort of saving France.

“I did not know you had acquired a taste for climbing buildings, Leon.” Keeping his voice soft, Arno took a spot next to the boy, settling into a crouch rather than sitting.

“It was easy enough after watching you, _monsieur_.” Leon did not look at him, but the Assassin hoped there might be a thread of humor there. The younger boy did shift, though it was only to loosen his arms from their locked position. “I may have fallen once or twice, but I will get better.”

It was there, a tiny spark of determination. It gave Arno a little hope that all was not so terrible for the boy after all.

“Take care if you intend to keep learning,” he cautioned, tone serious. “A fall from a rooftop might not seem like much but if you break your ankle it will certainly change your mind.” After a moment of thought, Arno felt it was only fair to ask, if only to reassure himself. “You don’t have any intentions to climb higher than this for now, do you?”

“Perhaps you could teach me.” Leon turned just enough to shoot him a conspiratorial look, mouth finally quirking up at the edges. It relieved the Assassin, just a bit, to see a semblance of humor on the boy’s face. Then Leon’s expression turned sheepish and he shifted his weight, releasing his knees in favor of leaning with his elbows on them. “I don’t think I’m ready to try anything taller just yet. You won’t tell Mademoiselle Margot?”

Seeing the boy attempt to look appropriately beseeching drew a short laugh from Arno’s mouth. Out of fondness, but with care of the edge they lingered beside on their little hideaway, he reached out to ruffle Leon’s short, dark hair. Leon protested, but only enough to lightly smack Arno’s hand away.

“She already knows, little man. She’s the one who told me where to find you, actually.” He watched as Leon sighed, rolling his dark eyes as if the world was out to him this day.

He let his young friend have a moment of self-pity before asking what they both knew had been coming. “Care to tell what has driven you to seek the heights for solace? Has your siege against your tree come to an end?” Arno smiled at the look Leon sent his way for that last comment, pleased to see the boy finally start to smile as well.

“No… I just…” Leon’s smile faded and he began to hunch his back once more, no longer looking at Arno as he studied his small hands. In a quiet voice, the young man asked, “Do you think my mother will be able to return soon?”

Arno felt his expression shift into a mask, momentarily averting his gaze from the little boy who was usually enthusiastic in everything. Several responses came to mind, some of them merely simple truth and more than a few a little coated in white lies. Leon would be able to see through those, he suspected, and he did not feel that giving him false hope would truly make anything better. Silence stretched between them and part of him wondered if his companion had meant the question to be a rhetorical one, even as he considered what to say.

In the end, honesty seemed the better choice.

Carefully, he situated himself to sit and ease the pressure on his knees. Running across the roofs of France would do that to a person, but he didn’t point that out to his contemplative friend. The stone beneath them was dry, as it had not rained in days and the city was growing restless – just the littlest bit different from the usual churning of the streets, the mood shifting uneasily under the present circumstances.

Arno took one long look over the area around them – the houses, still grey and dirty, the streets and the citizens travelling them, the sky above that had not yet begun to grow dark. Smoke from chimneys and scattered fires created a haze across everything, but it did not promise rain and relief the way the clouds might.

“There is still trouble in France, Leon.” He began, feeling rather than seeing the pair of eyes focusing on him. Keeping his voice even and quiet, the Assassin continued. “I do not know when things might become safe enough for your mother to return, or how long it may _stay_ safe.” There were too many variables to guess – even without involving the Brotherhood. France still had no king, food and other supplies were only in slightly better supply than they had been previously. Napoleon might well escape his imprisonment, however long or short that might prove to be.

If it were true that Leon’s mother had made it all the way to Spain, managed to stay there and be in good health, many things might happen if she attempted to come back to France. There were dangers on the road just as surely as everywhere else, especially for a woman who might be travelling alone.

And if she did come back to France, what sort of life awaited her here, with her son?

Poverty was the obvious answer, he knew. The wounds suffered from the Revolution would takes years to heal, or even begin to head in that general direction. If she tried to go back to Spain again, with Leon, it might prove that much harder.

Pushing those thoughts aside, however true or false they might be, Arno made sure to catch Leon’s eye when he spoke again. One hand lifted, coming to rest on a thin shoulder.

“I _do_ believe that she will come back to you, Leon. But,” he gently squeezed Leon’s shoulder, worried that the boy was so thin, “you will also have me, the Mademoiselle and her support. Should anything happen.”

Surprise, relief, and a bit of moisture welled in Leon’s eyes, though the lad tried to hide the latter by rubbing at them.

“Are you saying you will adopt me if mother doesn’t come?” The way it was said gave off the air of a jest, or at least part of one. The faint tremble in Leon’s voice told him that it could definitely be more.

Arno shifted, hand slipping around the boy’s furthest shoulder and drawing him in, tucking the child against his side. It felt… odd, the last person he held had been Elise and that…

He did not necessarily want to think about Elise right now.

“I would, if you would have me, Leon. And if the Mademoiselle Margot does not offer first.” Beneath his arm, he felt Leon squirm just a little and cautiously loosened his hold in case the boy wanted to have his own space again.

It would be quite a change, and an undoubtedly large promise to live up to – if Leon even wanted an Assassin as a guardian, he can’t quite wrap his head around the word ‘father’ just yet – but he meant every word. If it came to it, if something – God forbid – happened to Leon’s mother or the Mademoiselle and her orphanage or Leon grew too old to stay there for whatever reason…

He would be there. Offer what he could, if the little man would take it.

When Leon looked at him at last his cheeks were slightly pink, under the seemingly ever-present layer of grime and his eyes were bright. But he smiled, brightly even, and Arno found himself smiling back.

“ _Merci_ , Arno. Does that mean you will teach me to be like you?” Hope flickered in that steady gaze, reassured now and returning to the excitement the Assassin knew the boy for.

“When you are older, perhaps. We shall see.”

He swatted the half-hearted punch away with gentle ease, chuckling at the pout being present to him – as if that would change his mind.

_“Bastard.”_

Arno hummed in response, letting the boy go as he stood and tried to get the feeling back in his legs. “I can say that I have a few spare coins at the moment. If you think you can behave yourself and not stick your hand in other’s things, I might treat you.”

Leon was on his feet in an instant, much to Arno’s amusement.

“ _Oui, oui._ Let’s go then!”

He had to remind his companion to be careful when descending the roof, the way down oftentimes more troublesome than the going up. Whether or not he listened, Leon was bouncing with energy once they were at street level and he seized Arno’s hand and started leading him along as soon as he thought he could get away with it. He let the boy tug him in the direction he’d chosen, feeling his mouth quirk at the sight of so much excitement.


End file.
